Former classmate You Nu Liu Fang

For a long time, I've wanted to say, "Hey, hey, first look around and see if anyone with a temper wants to beat me up. Looks like no one." Here's the thing: after so many years of wandering, I feel that whether man or woman, no matter how good their family background, everyone has the potential to be a prostitute, the innate nature to use their body as capital for business, it's just a matter of whether they're forced to that point. Those single people still living with their parents, don't glare at me yet. And those who got married and cohabited right after graduating from university—of course, you're a lucky bunch, but I still pity you. The winter I graduated from university, I was very disheartened. First, my girlfriend, after the breakup, married a nearly sixty-year-old foreign teacher and moved in next door to kangaroos. Then, I felt cheated into this law firm. My colleagues were truly a bunch of gamblers, drinkers, whores, and con artists. Although everyone wore designer suits and carried expensive bags, they were equally ruthless in bullying newcomers and taking money from clients. Some experienced people said that everyone is like this right after graduating from university; it's a transitional period in society. That year, before the Spring Festival, I was walking alone on the street. My mother had her eye on a leather coat and asked me to look at it. I only glanced at the price tag and knew it couldn't possibly be her New Year's gift. Walking alone on a noisy street in winter wasn't a pleasant experience. My pager rang, so I went to queue for a public phone. "Excuse me, do you have three cents in change?" a woman's voice asked timidly behind me. Of course, I turned around, but strangely, the person asking for money didn't look at me. She was thin and wiry, with an unusually pale face, strong features, and deep-set eyes. Her clothes were decent enough, but my professional instincts told me she was in trouble. It reminded me of Fantine from my department. I decided to wait until she finished her call and pay her later. I vaguely heard her asking for money on the phone. Her face was calm, without the awkwardness most people show when asking for money. The call ended quickly. I paid the fare, turned and walked forward a dozen steps, then, almost unconsciously, turned back. She was still standing there, very close to the traffic, her head drooping under her tweed cap, her long hair and long skirt fluttering thinly in the cold wind. My strongest feeling was that this life was always adrift, always so fragile; if God were to sneeze, this life would vanish without a trace. I'm a very handsome man, and prostitutes have never approached me, which has its advantages—women don't think I'm a bored pleasure-seeker. I walked back, muttering to myself, "I'd like to eat something nearby. Are there any good restaurants?" Even though I could draw a map of the area. "Restaurants? I haven't eaten for two days," she said softly, as if talking about someone else. As an only child, I'd never been too far from home, and two days without food was a very serious matter. So, as soon as I entered the restaurant, I told the waiter to bring some hot water and asked her to drink it first. She laughed at my nervousness, saying it was common for her, but I was still afraid she might suddenly faint in front of me. Once her face regained some color, I couldn't hide my curiosity. She said shyly, "Brother, I'm not a bad girl, my name is Liu Fang." "Nobody said you were. Your name suits you well, 'A wandering maiden, her fragrance lingers.'" I wrote it on a napkin and showed it to her. Her face flushed red. "You're so good with words, you must have read a lot of books. My old friend was a rough man, he was either incredibly kind to me or beat and scolded me. I ran away and wandered for a long time, sometimes working as a hostess in karaoke bars, but I didn't want to sit and drink with them, so I got fired every three to five days. These past few days I couldn't find any work, so I went to the train station to solicit customers for small hotels, but the boss didn't pay my commission, bullying us out-of-towners." To be honest, I couldn't tell she was from out of town at all. Maybe I never even had that concept. My old friends and lovers weren't from the area, but they were all outstanding. The immediate problem was finding her a place to stay, and unfortunately, one of my family's houses in a courtyard house was empty, and my mother wanted me to clean it up in preparation for demolition. Without thinking much, I settled her in there, greeted the neighbor lady, and told her that my friend was visiting and would be staying temporarily. Looking back now, I realize how dangerous, childish, and ridiculous my behavior was. Maybe it was my habit of being a rich young master, maybe it was a sense of chivalry in rescuing a beauty, maybe it was my belief in friendship regardless of social status. From then on, many things happened that made me see things clearly and made me completely rebel against my class, becoming a wanderer and a carefree person. Wandering Girl's Fragrance (2) I admit that I live a very carefree life and don't understand women, so I have hurt them. I hate that once a woman becomes special in my life, she is always behind me, urging me and controlling me. I only ask for the autonomy to decide how many times to shave in a week, what clothes to wear, and even things I can't decide, such as which "sow-like" girls say they like me behind my back. My last lover in college, she came from a highly educated family, was very energetic, handsome, independent, and had the chicness of a city girl. But everything changed after we got together. I don't know why that became a woman's leash, anyway, I wasn't really into it. The year we graduated, she asked me, "What if I get pregnant?" "Don't talk about this, okay?" I hate it when women test me, but I shouldn't have told the truth when she pressed me: "First, I don't want a child right now; second, I'm considering whether you're suitable to be the mother of my child." God be my witness, I had no ill intentions at the time. The next day, she rode her bicycle to my dorm. I saw blood seeping through her underwear and reminded her that she had her period. She coldly told me that she had taken abortion pills, and the bleeding was hard to stop. Helping Liu Fang this time was a complete spur-of-the-moment decision. On the way home, I started to feel apprehensive. I didn't buy her the leather jacket, but I picked up a woman instead. Would my mother use the same tactics and tactics she used when she was involved in the "organization" back then? I had to lie again. A few days later, I had almost forgotten about it when she called me, saying she had found a good job with high pay, and begged me to take any clients to that restaurant for her to patronize. "Of course, no problem. I'm also working as a translator for this international law firm, after all." Sure enough, a few days later, a client arrived. I took her to her workplace, and she was overjoyed, as if she'd seen a savior. It seems work isn't easy after all. Before settling the bill, I casually asked if she needed anything else, and she started sobbing. Overwhelmed with gratitude? At least my young master had done something virtuous; I felt quite pleased. The second time I went, I sensed something was wrong as soon as I entered. There were more alluring women at the entrance, dressed differently from the waitresses. As soon as I sat down in the private room, older women brought in several teenage girls. I'd seen this before, in documentaries about brothels. Coincidentally, this time it was a Korean client, who was very receptive to this. He barely drank any alcohol before his hands were already inside the women's clothes. I couldn't sit still. I made an excuse to go find Liu Fang and dragged her out of one of the private rooms. I was furious. Everything in this world changes. I've witnessed different women fall into depravity before my eyes several times, but I've never lost my temper like this before. The woman who called herself "Mommy" came up to me overly enthusiastically, patting me and saying to Liu Fang, "Oh dear, it's rare that this handsome guy only likes you, so why don't you switch rooms?" She then practically pushed us back into my private room. I took the opportunity to ask her what her plans were. It was about money again; she was afraid of going home for the New Year empty-handed to see her paralyzed mother and two younger brothers still in school. Having just graduated, I couldn't help her any further unless she asked her family for money. Until I got the money, I could only advise her not to do anything foolish. Once that profession started, most people couldn't stop—money, spending, wanting more money, a vicious cycle. She said she didn't have any yet. Then I downed half a bottle of red wine in one go, my drunken eyes watching those pig-faced Koreans' hands moving back and forth on the girls' bodies, some occasionally writhing in the sofa. I turned and went into the bathroom in the private room to vomit. She followed me in, gently patting my back. After vomiting and rinsing my mouth, I turned and sat on the toilet seat, and she locked the door behind me. Actually, I had already made up my mind, I was just waiting, while I was still clean... I only just realized that she was wearing nothing but a backless wine-red short top and a black short skirt, her flat stomach was right in front of my head, and she had a faint woman's fragrance. I hadn't touched a woman in a long time, and with the alcohol, I reached out and hugged her thigh. She was a fallen angel, but her eyes didn't reveal lewdness, but rather calmness, you could even say naturalness. Those women who have received higher education are more like prostitutes, because their every move always reminds you: you have to take responsibility for me, otherwise I will make you regret it for the rest of your life. She was not like them, who seemed to be hanging up to sell themselves. If you let them lick you, they would bother you for days, asking if you learned it from porn. She let me play with the parts I liked. Her whole body was snow-white and crystal clear, transparent with a pinkish tinge from above, and even her lower body was light pink, which could be considered top-quality. Her peeled, pear-shaped breasts exuded a sweet, milky scent. As I savored them, she tilted her head back and gently swayed her body, lost in self-absorption. To my shame, my daily excessive muscle training had made me less enthusiastic about sex, and my ex-girlfriends often complained. But facing her slender, soft, and alluring body, my confidence and my penis surged simultaneously, growing larger than ever before. From next door came the cacophony of karaoke and lewd sounds, a very stimulating sensory experience. My breathing quickened. I grabbed her buttocks with my rough hands, turned her upside down, and pressed her against my groin. She reached for my erection, and before I could react, she twisted her hips and sat on top of me. Ah, so satisfying! For a woman to go to such lengths truly made this "big man who's had enough of being oppressed by women" sigh.Although she hadn't slept with anyone before, I sensed this wasn't her first or second time. Her body was smooth and supple, but the space was quite limited, presenting several obstacles. However, each time I overcame one, a new world opened up. After I fully entered her, she let out a soft scream and stopped moving. I inhaled the scent of her hair, occasionally kissing her neck along her back, gently breathing into her ear, babbling incoherently. She giggled and began to sway her body, becoming increasingly violent. I grabbed one of her breasts with one hand and reached into her wetness with the other, teasing her most sensitive areas. She was almost frantic, bracing herself against the wall, moaning incoherently, "Ah...ya...woo...mi..." I almost ejaculated several times but held back; the shadow of my ex-girlfriend's abortion still haunted my sexual desire. As we spoke, her body convulsed, waves of spasms rising and falling within her. I felt my whole body throbbing, my mind buzzing. I didn't care anymore; I held her waist tightly and erupted like a volcano, howling loudly at the same time. I never plan anything in my life, letting things happen naturally. Now that it's happened, I'm starting to regret it. What am I? Wang Jinlong for Su San? Li Jia for Du Shiniang? I don't know what love really feels like, I only know that I enjoy being together, without pressure, without arguments or nagging. This feeling changes unpredictably, with every gesture, every glance, and every smile. My last girlfriend captivated me because she told a touching love story at a party. This girl in front of me isn't like those women I knew before; she doesn't have the independence or the means to sell herself to America, Canada, or Australia, to be exhibited and sold on the world stage. She might just be the daughter of some laid-off worker. We all had similar childhoods and adolescences, thinking that when we grew up we would be masters of the country. Now, some people can't even be masters of their own bodies; all they have left are their bodies. Maybe she's the daughter of Li Peng or a high-ranking official, or even the daughter of a black marketeer… My mind is in turmoil. The key is, I'm not a dirty customer of prostitutes. How should I treat her after the sex?

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Former classmate You Nu Liu Fang

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